


Clandestine

by TanninTele (orphan_account)



Series: Amalgamation [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con concerning Zeus/Others, Infidelity, Minor Character Death, Morning After, Other, WARNINGS:, consumption of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:41:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7839817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TanninTele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Muggle pubs were lovely for a bit of solitude and time with her thoughts, but truly, was her life so terrible? She had a loving husband, a group of loyal friends, a pending job in the Department of Mysteries that many would kill for and several years of domestic life to look forward too. . . but a part of Lily wanted more. </p><p>James could be too possessive, too controlling. She wasn't allowed to see her friends anymore, much less visit the one old friend she dearly wished to see. James didn't mean to hurt his wife, but perhaps while Lily loved him for his care and protection, she also loathed it. Sometimes, Lily couldn't help wondering if Severus' Darkness would have smothered her own flames as well. </p><p>Glancing over at Philius, with his long, voluminous black hair and fathomless blue eyes, Lily was really more ashamed of herself. Thinking of Philius' troubles, Lily really had no reason to be sulking as she was. But if James and Severus weren't enough for her, though, perhaps Philius could be. At least for one night. </p><p>Lily blinked in surprise at the turn of her thoughts, and looked down at her drink.<br/>Perhaps she was drunker than she thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clandestine

**Author's Note:**

> To receive the full experience and background information, it is preferred that you read the entire series in order.

** **

 

**Clandestine**

_(adj. kept secret or done secretively, especially because illicit.)_

  **A Harry Potter & Percy Jackson Crossover **

**Story One of the _Amalgamation Series_**

by _Tannin & Tele_

* * *

_Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan, voiding that of original content and characters._

. . .

 **_Warnings:_ ** _Chapter includes consumption of alcohol, infidelity, light mentions of rape and implied sexual situations._

_The opinions expressed by characters may not reflect that of the author's._

* * *

   **November 3rd, 1979**

_**London, England** _

Zeus was **~~sulking~~**. . . _um. Let's try that again, shall we?_

He was  ** ~~sulk~~ - ** _well. Alright then. Touchy, touchy._

The King of the Gods was darkly reminiscing, head bowed over a short glass of whiskey.  _It was, um, a very masculine brood, I assure you._

The God of the Skies couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment it all became overwhelming. War and anger had always plagued the Greek gods, and eventually something had to bend. The last thing Zeus remembered before becoming as drunk as a Bacchae was an Iris message from Hades, his older brother.

After going through the basic greetings and reports, Hades had offhandly informed Zeus that his last remaining demi-god son, Ludwig, was dead - not from a monster - but from a group of mortals. Hades' blasé report was almost insulting, and with Hera in the background smugly slandering his parenting skills - well.

Naturally, Zeus didn't take the news very well. 

Very soon, he's literally  _storming_ out of Olympus and riding the clouds as fast and as far from Manhattan as he could manage. Distraught as he was, Zeus could really only make it to West London before collapsing in a large heap at a 5-star hotel room, equipt with a King-size bed ( _fitting),_ a stocked mini-fridge and a Jacuzzi.

**Ah, the luxuries of mortal life. . .What? Even a grieving, over-worked God of Gods deserves a little vacation once and a while.**

_Fun Fact: apparently, Celestial Bronze could very easily be mistaken for pure gold with a little help from the Mist. But, I digress._

Of course, his leave of absence hadn't come without consequence. His wife was furious (although, to be honest, anger directed at Zeus had always been one of Hera's more primary emotions), while his many . . .  _many_ children were equally unsupportive of his sudden departure. And his brothers - 

Zeus sighed. 

Well, Poseidon and Hades were about as accepting of Zeus' life choices as always. Which is, to say, not in the least. 

Anyways, even with the 5 hour time difference, it was still only five o'clock when Zeus emptied the mini-fridge. He had been hoping to drink his way into a week-long coma, but unfortunately, Dionysus was feeling particularly unhelpful that evening. 

Instead, Zeus shambled his way into a taxi and told the driver to bring him to the shadiest pub in town. _And that, my friends, is where we can find our esteemed Lord of the Heavens, dressed in a form-fitting pair of trousers and an authentic British jumper_. As his mind twisted and turned through past mistakes and regrets, the entirety of London was paying for his mood. 

The skies were dark and polluted, thunder crashing nastily above head. A permeating chill brought in the few remaining street stragglers into dirty pubs like his, and as a great gust of air pushed open the doors, a slim figure was revealed. bundled in a nondescript brown trench-coat and crimson hat.

The woman closed the door with effort, sending an apologetic glance to the nearby table of poker players. While the woman removed her gloves, Zeus downed the last of his glass and he twitched his finger, instantly summoning the mortal bartender.

The woman pulled up a seat at the bar and politely ordered a glass of gin, removing her hat and revealing a long mane of shimmering copper hair.

Zeus cleared his throat. 

"Are you sure you don't want anything stronger? You look a bit . . . chilled," he pointed out, blinking as the woman fixed her unnatrally bright green eyes onto him. She scrunched her nose at him, and Zeus' eyes were drawn to the spattering of freckles that only seemed to enforce her natural, unmarred beauty. 

"I'm fine, thanks," she said coolly, turning her head.

Zeus fumbled for his senses, enraptured by the floral scent of her shampoo. She was only sitting a few stools away, but Zeus found himself leaning closer and closer until he nearly fell from his seat. He caught himself quickly, blushing furiously. 

The woman's lip quirked briefly. 

"Are you sure you don't want anything less potent? It seems you're already a bit . . . tipsy," she mocked, eyes glimmering with mirth.

Zeus startled them both with a loud laugh, quickly smothering it with a cough. "Please pardon me, miss," he implored, gathering his wits. **For Olympus' sake, he was a God! Could he not pull himself together long enough to flirt with this one mortal girl?** "But I'm afraid I've found myself . . . _falling_ for you already." 

The woman lifted an unimpressed brow, hiding a small smile behind her glass. "I'm sorry, but I'm a married woman," she informed him. 

Zeus hummed in disappointment, and glanced down at her thin, elegant hands. "I see no ring. Trouble in paradise?" He asked, entirely glad that he had the foresight to leave his own wedding ring at the hotel. Zeus wasn't terribly fond of his own ring - a thick band made of Celestial Bronze and etched with Ancient Greek letters, speaking of eternal love and fidelity and _blah blah blah -_ but Hera was a very materialistic woman. 

The mortal glowered at him. 

"Even if there was - as you say - 'trouble in paradise'," she spat, the quotation marks were heavily implied. "I see no reason to divulge that information to  _you._  After all; I don't even know your name,"the woman crossed her arms, tucking her left hand away.

Zeus frowned a bit, having to remind himself that, as far as she knew, he could be a kidnapper or rapist or worse - gods forbid. He couldn't attest to _all_ of them, but Zeus could easily assure that he was long over that brief phase of raping young, beautiful maidens, thank you very much. 

"Of course. I apologize for prying," he said smoothly, extending a hand. Or an olive branch, as it were. "My name is Philius Cobham. You can call me Phil, if you want," Zeus said hopefully, although inwardly, he smirked at his cleverness. 

_(If you're unfamiliar with Latin, Philius is considered a cult name for Zeus, meaning 'of friendship'. Cobham is derived from the word 'cob', which is a male swan; and - Leda can attest to this - Zeus as a swan is irresistible.)_

The woman considered him briefly before shifting closer and taking Philius' hand in hers.

"Phil, then. I'm Li - Petunia. Petunia Black. I'd say it's a pleasure, but I'm afraid I can't form that opinion yet," 'Petunia' smiled wryly. Philius admired her tenacity. Lying straight to his face, quite impressive. Also a bit insulting, but hey; he wasn't exactly _announcing_  his godly status to her, now was he? 

"Anyways," the woman seemed to be searching for conversation topics, resigned to the fact Phil wasn't going to leave her alone. "I can tell by your accent that you come from 'across the pound', as us Brits are fond of saying," Petunia gave a cheeky grin, sipping on her drink. "So, what brings you to our humble city of London?" 

"Humble, my ass," Philius snorted lightly. He brushed away a piece of dark, midnight-black hair.  

"Language," Petunia rebuked lightly, giving a half-hearted glare. 

"I believe that's English, although I may be mistaken," Phil shot back. 

Petunia laughed. "Like I haven't heard _that_ before. My husband and his friends can be very sarcastic, given the right conditions. Although, their general attitude leaves much to be desired." Petunia trailed off, bitterness replacing her mirth.

Philius made a sympathetic noise. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," he informed her seriously. Petunia nodded in agreement. 

 _"Anyways,"_ she wiped away a patch of condensation on the the counter. "I believe I asked about you. Tell me, what's a charming man like you doing in a dingy pub in West London?"

Philius arched a brow. "I could ask the same thing about you. A charming _young_   _woman_ has no place slumming it up with the drunk and depressed," he gestured around the room. 

Petunia's eyes furrowed. "Weak evasion tactics. But, I'll play along. Which are you, then; drunk or depressed? Perhaps a mixture of both," she surmised, watching his crystal blue eyes darkened. Philius swallowed a bit of whiskey, the alcohol burning bitter in the back of his throat.

"Perhaps," Phil admitted. "As you can likely tell, I'm from America. New York, to be precise, although I have roots in Greece," he said this a bit proudly. "My family is quite large and very,  _very_ close. As such, a sense of repression and resentment is bound to crop up. My brothers, especially, are envious of my success in the . . . uh . . . business industry. It's complicated," he brushed off Petunia's curious look.

"Recently, my son - " Petunia was surprised. The man didn't look any older than twenty-five. " - has passed on due to a civil rights massacre in North Carolina. Like his mother, William was very enthusiastic when it came to his beliefs," Philius' expression became pained, and Petunia tentatively reached over to grasp his hand.

"Anyways. My oldest brother and sister- who have always been exceptionally jealous of me - became quite contemptuous and crass with me, treating William's death like it was . . . nothing. Just further ammunition to use against their hated younger sibling. After that, everything became too much. I just needed to get _away . . ._ and where better than across the Atlantic, miles and miles away from their  _contempt,_ " he spat out.  

Petunia looked quite sympathetic. If Philius chanced a trip into her mind, he would see glimpses of two young girls laughing cheerfully and running beneath a large willow tree, only to be replaced with cold looks and spitting rejections of _'you're a freak, Lily!'_

. . .Lily. Right. Yeah, she felt a bit bad for using her sister's name as a pseudonym, but with Death Eaters and Voldemort roaming about, she could never be too careful. Lily shouldn't have been out and about Muggle London in the first place, but after that last fight with James - she just wanted to feel  _human_ for one night. 

Although she'd never know it, Zeus was feeling much the same. 

"To be truthful," Philius pushed on, looking decidedly shameful. "I probably wasn't the best father for my son. I was never truly a _present_ dad, except for in the later years. He was born out of wedlock and suffered quite a bit both before and after I . . . claimed him. I regret not being there when he needed it most, but my duties in New York prevented from being a proper father; and now . . . " he turned away, swallowing hard. 

Lily, although in no way supportive of absentee parents (her once-best friend had suffered from a similar affliction as William, voiding the fact Tobias Snape never made it any farther from home than the nearest bar), she couldn't help but pity the man. The woman glanced down into her half-empty glass, disappointed that the healthy buzz she was searching for was no where to be found. Lily sighed to herself.

Was this all really necessary? Muggle pubs were lovely for a bit of solitude and time with her thoughts, but truly, was her life so terrible? 

She had a loving husband, a group of loyal friends, a pending job in the Department of Mysteries that many would kill for and several years of domestic life to look forward too. . . but a part of Lily wanted  _more._

Upon reflecting, Lily realized her  _real_ problem. 

She missed Severus. Or, perhaps, the  _idea_ of Severus. 

She yearned for the moody, troubled boy that had always put a spice in Lily's life, his sharp brevity and ironic humor keeping her in fits of laughter for hours. James, with his silly pranks and radical humor paled in comparison to Severus' maturity, and intelligence. Although she tried to forget it, Lily couldn't help but remember her best friend's plethora of lovely, warm Darkness that always comforted her after a long week of testing or a particularly bad fight with Petunia. 

While Lily wasn't a big fan of the Dark Arts itself, Severus' Darkness was something to be envious of. Despite being inherently  _Dark,_ it wasn't an all-consuming hate and evil that Voldemort utilized. It was like the darkness of night, with sprinkles of starlight bursting through to reveal the truth behind carefully formed masks and facades.

Severus had always  _acted_ like he had no problems - he always hid his insecurities beneath a stuffy exterior and an intimidating, powerful persona - but Lily knew her old friend better than anyone. Severus had his own troubles and Lily had never hesitated _once_  to raise his spirits or bandage him up after every cruel prank or beating from his father.

Lily liked being cared for, and caring for someone in return; James never gave her that option.

He was always the one to pursue her, chasing away her tears with forced laughter and often implying that Lily couldn't survive without a strong, capable man standing beside her. When they were at Hogwarts, James' arrogance was an extreme turn-off. He was a spoiled and disrespectful trouble-maker, defying all sorts of rules. Girls thought him charming and handsome, but to Lily, he was just a prime example of a boring, regular  _male._

'Woman are too sensitive' James once claimed to his friends. Lily had been reading in the Gryffindor common room when she overheard this, somehow the only one to _see_ past his popular, Golden-Boy mask. 'Men are more capable of great power and strength while the woman stick to their books and family.' Lily remembered her eyes flaring in anger.

Was James basing his 'great and powerful wizards' after the four Hogwarts founders, possibly the most cliched group of magicians to exist? In which the men were brave and ambitious while the woman were homely and bookish? _'Stick to the books indeed'_ , Lily nearly smacked her husband upside the head with the newest edition of  _Achievements in Charming -_ written by a well known  _female_ curse-breaker. 

Regardless, as James matured, he put off the cruel japes and sexism and instead put his mind towards becoming an Auror. The rigorous research and training involved must've knocked some sense into him, seeing that James finally stopped assaulting her with disgusting displays of affection and instead wooed Lily with his steady attempt at rational, intelligent small talk.

And of course, if Dumbledore and McGonagall found him mature enough to be a Head Boy and Lily was going to be sharing a living quarters with him . . . Lily supposed she might as well learn to tolerate his presence. All too soon, toleration became attraction and from there, well. Hormones, and all.

_Enough said._

Perhaps Lily could cut her younger self a bit of slack, seeing that in those days, her emotions had been a bit muddled by Severus' betrayal and gradual immersion into the  _true_ Dark Arts.

As a Muggle-born, Lily was never treated very kindly by Slytherins in the first place, although a few of the younger students were respectful to her - being Head Girl and all. True to his nickname, Severus was a Half-Blood Prince, implying that he was at least  _partially_ worth Malfoy, Avery, Macnair and Carrow's time, but Severus was never one to stick with conventions. It took years for him to succumb, but once he did, Lily was afraid he'd be lost forever. 

Perhaps while her back was turned, Severus had started delving more into the Restricted Section or opening an ear to Malfoy's pro-Voldemort propaganda, so that one last attack on his dignity pushed Severus over the edge. James and the Marauders were cruel to him, true, but Severus' actions left much to be desired.

He called Lily, his very best friend, one of the dirtiest names he could think of. And, Lily wouldn't lie, but it bloody well _hurt._ Mistakes happen to the best of people, of course, but Lily wasn't so forgiving. In a fit of anger, Severus' Freudian sliplost them both a childhood's worth of friendship, previously based on trust and mutual support - now shattered by a single word.

'Mudblood'. Meaning 'dirty-blood', implying her inferiority to the son of an abusive muggle and traitorous pureblood. James, himself explained this to Lily, hesitantly approaching her with sentiments and subtle 'told-you-so's'. In her distraught state, Lily finally agreed to his request of a date, thinking to herself vehemently that if Severus didn't care about her, she'd love some else that  _would._

And, really. Lily did love James.

She loved him more than she thought capable, loved him enough to stifle her own inner fire in order to let James' fire passionate burn for itself. James could act rude and pompous at times, horribly ignorant on the feelings of others but . . . no one was perfect. Right?

He was - in addition to all those negatives - loyal, funny, chivalrous, charming, attentive . . . and it was clear that he truly loved Lily, enough to  _keep_ her even when 'the chase' was done. He protected her from the Darkness and brightened her day with a single smile, but as the war loomed on and his jokes became forced, dull, ugly attempts at easing the fear, his fire burned too bright for Lily to handle. 

James became too possessive, too controlling. She wasn't allowed to see her friends anymore, much less visit the one old friend she dearly wished to see. Lily didn't even know where Severus lived, for Merlin's sake, or if he would accept her presence - after all those years. 

James didn't mean to hurt his wife, but perhaps while Lily loved him for his care and protection, she also loathed it. Sometimes, Lily couldn't help but wonder if Severus' Darkness would have smothered her own flames as well.  

. . . 

Lily glanced up at Philius, who had taken to staring quietly at his topped-off glass. Without him watching, she began to inspect the man, unconsciously comparing him to the men she loved. 

Despite his masculine height and build making her think of James, the man also seemed to harbor Severus' wit and patience, enough to keep up with her rapidly fluctuating moods. Phil's long dark hair was smooth and voluminous, his jawline prominent and his nose - now that she thought about it - rather Grecian. Not at all hooked or beak-like. 

Philius seemed like a perfect blend of Lily's best friend and husband, although his eyes- which seemed to stare straight through her - were nothing like Severus orJames. They were a bright shade of blue, almost the color of a summer sky. His eyes held a strange wisdom, as if Phil had seen and experienced much Darkness. Lily recognized it quite well. It was solemnly beautiful, and Lily found herself entirely fascinated. 

Looking over at Philius, with his long, voluminous black hair and fathomless blue eyes, Lily was really more ashamed of herself. Thinking of Philius' troubles, Lily really had no reason to be sulking as she was.

But if James and Severus weren't enough for her, though, perhaps Philius could be. At least for one night.

Lily blinked in surprise at the turn of her thoughts, and looked down at her drink. Perhaps she was drunker than she thought.  

* * *

   **November 4th, 1979**

When Lily woke the next morning, she felt as Zeus likely had when Hephaestus broke open his skull to reveal a full-grown goddess. _Not that she knew anything of_ that.

Keeping her eyes shut helped to keep out the worst of the headache, and so Lily feigned sleep for a while. She was only vaguely aware of the warm body beside her, an arm draped over her waist. The bed was soft as clouds, the cool silk relieving the burning warmth of her skin.  As she lay there, feeling some of the twinges in his head receding, Lily silently attempted to interpret her blurred memories of the night before.

Slowly, as the odor of sex and cologne filled her nostrils (mixed with the odd scent of ozone) her eyes popped open in utter horror.  Sunlight filled her vision, streaming through the large, open window. She couldn't stop the long, soft groan that slipped dragged her lips as dots blurred before her eyes and a sense of nausea crept up on her. Scrambling desperately for the bedside table, she soon panicked, not finding her wand.

Holding back bile, she pushed off Philius' arm and rolled out of the king-sized bed, landing on shaky limbs. Stumbling across the soft carpet, Lily blessedly found the ensuite bathroom and ignored the cream-colored tiling, golden fixings and luxurious bathtub in favor for the pristine porcelain toilet.

_Well, it wasn't pristine for long._

Emptying the last of her stomach, Lily leaned her forehead against the cool rim, her mouth tasting sour. Lily's iconic copper hair was plastered with sweat, her naked torso quivering with shaky breaths. The nausea passed, and Lily tentatively raised her head, hoping to _(the)_ god _(s)_ that it had all been a nasty - although, at some points, admittedly pleasant - dream.

She was sorely disappointed. 

Feeling numb, Lily grabbed onto the sink and scrubbed the awful taste from her mouth, grimacing at her reflection. She looked like shite and felt it too, but Lily was a firm believer in retribution. "I am an awful human being," Lily muttered to herself, lifting a hand to poke at the purple hickeys on her neck. 

A few more soft swears followed closely as she was struck with another wave of self-loathing. Breathing deeply, Lily closed her eyes to concentrate. It took a bit out of her, but soon a thin shimmer appeared over her . . . well, everything. The glamour was weak, but was at least capable of disguising the _very_ telling 'love bites' and dark smudges beneath her eyes.

Ignoring the slight pain in her lower regions, Lily hobbled her way back into the bedroom, glancing at Philius to assure he was still asleep. The man looked very peaceful while trapped in the arms of Morpheus, Lily couldn't help but note. He was truly very handsome, and the way he treated her the night before revealed a _long_ past with willing lovers - and no wonder! He could probably talk a nun out of her tunic, and then some. Somehow, this didn't make Lily feel any better.

The missing pressure on her ring finger didn't help in the slightest; it just reminded her of what she had to lose.

Moving as silently as possible, Lily collected her clothes - admittedly a bit more torn and stained than when she had bought them, but she could work with it - and was unspeakably relieved to find her wand, 10 1/4 inches, willow and unicorn-hair, in her coat pocket. Flicking it idly, Lily cast a handy hangover cure on both herself and - feeling guilty - a mild one on Philius. He didn't deserve to suffer for Lily's mistakes. 

The witch pushed these incriminating thoughts from her head as she slipped on her undergarments and tights. The dress felt as snug as usual, and Lily tried not to think of how she may have appeared; no ring, false name, tight clothing.

And Philius had already been quite drunk when they met, meaning that  _she_ was the one to take advantage of a helpless, grieving, inebriated man and  _oh god(s) -_ Lily took a moment to regain her breath. She shook herself out of it, wondering where her shoes - oh, there they were.

Shoulders hunched in dread, Lily took a deep breath and opened the door with sweaty palms. Her heart shuddered in her chest as she heard Philius shifted in the bed, and Lily shut the door quickly behind her, shame burning hot and painful beneath her ravished bosom. 

. . .

**_Godric's Hollow, West Country, England_ **

As she made her way home, Lily couldn't find it in herself to admit her follies.

James had been overwrought, terrified that Lily had been injured, lost or worse - he was so relieved and concerned that Lily wondered if she had caused all that suffering for nothing. But, then, James made her promise not to leave again, which Lily agreed to reluctantly.

At least - she reasoned with herself - he hadn't forced Lily to admit her whereabouts. 

Philius' memories and her own were the only proof of her unfaithfulness, and Lily swore to herself she'd never break James' heart in that way again. She'd stay with the man who loved her, the man who would kill for her,  _die_ for her, protect and possess Lily, mind, body and soul - even at the cost of her own passionate flame.

It was a ludicrous construct anyways. Flames and Darkness, a burning Light and sparks before her eyes, bright blue orbs dilating in ecstasy as she - Lily shook off the thought. 

Why was she still thinking of Philius at all? He was a foreigner, a business man, too preoccupied with his business and familial rivals to take care of his _son._ He didn't care about her, a stranger he met while at rock-bottom, drinking away the pain. 

Lily wondered, though.

Was he married? Did he have other children? Would he even remember her? It was unlikely that - especially after the drinks they'd shared - he would even recall Lily from their single one-night-stand.

But she couldn't ever forget.

And, honestly, Lily wasn't sure that it was a blessing or curse. 

* * *

  _In the end, their clandestine affair didn't matter anyways._

_Because their secret died with her, with only her son as blissfully oblivious proof._

* * *

_**T** **o** **be continued in**  _ **S** **ub Judice** , ** _Story Two of the_  Amalgamation Series**


End file.
